similar
by darlingdearestdoll
Summary: how easy it is, to love and to let it go. {three loves Len never has. love always conquers. death always collects.} - lenrin, lenring, eventual lenku
1. fire and water

**Rated: T for Len being death. Yes, you read that right. No, it isn't a typo.**

 **Summary:** Immortality, from Len's eyes – or, that one time when Len wasn't the one died in every freaking PVs.

 **Dedicated:** To my snail waify. Have avocado today, hAH! MY AVOCADO, MINE!

 **Author's Note:** Who is the one falling face first into this mess? _This one_. Who is the one crying because my one and only source for internet is going to be taken away? _Still this one_ XD This is a prologue for an upcoming chapter, but can stand alone too.

Also, one might wonder why I haven't even been in a relationship with anyone and yet all I ever write is love XD If you have a legit answer, well, feel free to tell me XD

A little juicier than usual – yes, readers, all hail the new almost-rated-M-thing~ And yes, waify, I _know_ you are cackling like the crazy person you secretly are. I just know. Intuition, maybe? XD

And this is **unfinished** , to anyone dare going in and said "If this is a one shot, mark this as 'complete'." Uh, no, this is not. I didn't remember asking you to criticize the status of my work, thank you very much.

Aside from that, have fun reading~

 **Warning: Unbeta'd, but then again, my works are mostly unbeta'd XD**

 **Disclaimer: I own my imaginary, Len's fling with girls – a.k.a flirting shamelessly – and characters' death in this one-shot. Other than that, own nothing. *sob in a corner***

* * *

 **i.** the first.

/this is fine. this is enough. but never enough to satisfy./

 _I am glad it cannot happen twice, the fever of first love. For it is a fever, and a burden, too, whatever the poets may say._

― _Daphne du Maurier_ , Rebecca

He hadn't been human for a very long time, but sure enough, feeling stayed. Fierce, colorful – red, green, blue; a vast of colors so bright and blinding. A cut on the skin, deep and bleeding, he remembered blood pouring out so much and flesh screaming. The satisfaction of achieving something so hard. The clumsy first kiss, teeth clattering together and lips crashing lousily, lacking in skills and grace and the only thing made up for those qualities was the affection behind this.

He didn't remember much about his past either. It had been a story – one so tiring and bland. And as soon as he part way with it, it was immediately erased from his mind. _He was Death, and that was all he would ever be_.

She came along one day, starlit and gentle, half smirks and mischievous eyes, so lovely, so otherworldly. A small smile, waving with only her fingertips and accepting, always accepting. She didn't question much, only nodded and let things slide on its own. Rin, her name echoed, simple and shy and mysterious.

She smiled a little but made no objection when he called her _Rinne_.

She didn't even doubt it when he introduced himself.

"So you are Death, huh? Cool."

 _Why_ , he narrowed his eyes at him, almost like she was doubting his very existence – and judging from her easy response, maybe she was.

"Don't get me wrong, I know you are Death – because, duh, who would go around carrying a big scythe like that all day? Well, maybe cosplayers, but – um, I just know."

 _So why was she so carefree toward him,_ he wanted to ask, but then swallowed. It was the tranquility radiating from her, so soothing, so precious. She took everything life dished out at her. It was enough. It was fine. Her hair rustled against his cheeks like folded papers as he held her, closer, closer. She didn't fight, but didn't exactly enjoy his embrace, either. Never reacted. Like flowing water.

Battered and soft and formless.

He wanted to know more, more, dug deeper under her skin, under all her lies, but she just turned her head, turning away, running away from the world, and everything he saw was his own reflection. Even when they were intimate, she would just closed her eyes, shielding away deep blue eyes. Never made any noises; no whisper, no moans, nothing to give away her feelings. His kisses pressed against her cold lips would only be reward by her tiny sigh. His claim about love, the three words girls cherished so much would earn a smile and a shake of head. But never, never the same words back. Always asleep, always dreamy, and only awake when he loomed too close to push him away.

It was enough, but never enough to satisfy him.

She reminded him of himself. Someone trying to ran away, alone, unbound and not tired of the world under her feet.

"Maybe," she whispered, the tiniest of smile gracing her lips, "what do you think?"

He turned his head away away, digging his spoon into the orange-flavored ice-cream she so loved, partially because he didn't want to face her.

"I don't think anything. It's just an observation."

She hummed under her breath.

"Personally, I think death is closer to love than to someone so boring," _like me_ ; it wasn't spelled out, but they both knew.

"Why?"

She hummed. Ever so carefree.

"After all, they both require eternity."

And when it was time, he took her away. She slipped a smile so small at his hesistance, a smile he knew would forever burn in his mind and soul as long as he existed.

"This is fine."

This was enough. But never enough to satisfy.

* * *

 **ii.** the second.

/because this isn't meant to continue./

 _Did I make it that easy_

 _To walk right in and out of my life?_

– _Almost Lover_ , A Fine Frenzy.

He never gave much thought about love, and unlike human, he didn't have needs. Len could be asexual for all he knew. And after the encounter with Rin, he couldn't even think about this anymore.

(After all, no-one had ever tried to figure out death's interest, much less _sexual orientation_ – thank you very much.)

She caught his eyes one hot summer day, humid and crowded; scent of sweat filling his nose, making him dizzy. She sparked, bright and burning. _Girl on Fire,_ he observed amusedly; chopping reality and dream, cutting and bruising and _ending_. Breaking the favor when he could only play with it.

He found her one day, lying on the bathroom floor, her hand in the ceramic-white tub and blood dripping down from cut wrist. Mild blue hair tied in two pigtails, soaked with water. A metal blade lay innocently next to her, and his eyes crinkled, an almost frown settled.

It wasn't her time – he knew, because she wasn't on his list. She wasn't meant to die – not yet – not now, anyway.

So why did she want to end her life this way?

He wouldn't allow her to die, of course. With a snap of the fingers, she was turned unharmed. Healthy and breathing as ever.

Her eyes cracked open.

She knew too. Call it intuition, call it wild guess, but she knew. She knew. The first thing she did was hitting him. Icy blue eyes hardened into metal color, pink lips turned down in a sneer, a desperate cry.

"Why didn't you let me die?!"

"It's not your time yet," he answered, simply like that.

"Oh no it is," she smiled bitterly, "it is."

She yanked his hand. Placing it on her heart, faintly beating, exhausted, tired, beating heart.

"It's my time," she concluded. "My love is gone."

 _So it was just like that? A girl, heart-broken by a break up, shallowly thinking this is the end of her world, and then rush to end everything?_ His eyes narrowed.

 _Oh, don't say it just simple like that_ , she waggled a manicured finger at him, _it's never that simple. You are death. Of all people, I think you should know._

 _And there is that again._ Instinctively, he dipped his hand underwater. _Why do you human keep insisting that death and love are similar?_

 _Oh, you don't know?_

A slightest of smirk traced her eyes. So cold. So hard. She was tired, so tired of this life, of this love. This was a mistake. It never should have happened. It never should have been there. _She_ was a mistake, coming from a single mom and a dad who was never there.

This was wrong, wrong, wrong.

 _It's a mistake to continue thing. I need to die because I love this life._

His hands froze in their place. This made no senses. She was crazy.

 _I love this life. And because of that, I want, selfishly want to continue. Don't think I want to end it here._

 _Then why?_

She was a piece of work, he realized. Glass eyes and a beautiful name – Ring, almost like _hers_ – but all fire and no water, and burnt, burnt so brightly it lit up the air and hurt everyone near it.

 _Because love has no sense of continuity. Where there is a sense of continuity, love is already dead, and it smells of yesterday, with all its ugly memories, quarrels, brutalities._

He knew the exact moment she snapped. The moment something clashed, because it leaked through her eyes, and at first she screamed words, then just a boy's name, and eventually she forgot even that. But the screaming went on.

Her hand traced the hilt of the knife. Eyes wide open, and a smile so empty swallowed it all.

 _To love, is to die._

An ending to it all. She laughed so freely, so hurt, wet blood coloring her porcelain skin and she was again, the Girl on Fire.

He had seen people die. Some time fast, too fast for his mind to progess. Sometime slow and angry. Sometime tearful, sometime agonizing.

She went out blazing.

Metal flung up her neck, and this time, he made no move.

* * *

 **iii.** the last.

/don't fall in love with me./

 _I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once._

― John Green, _The Fault in Our Stars_

And then _she_ came.

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A friendly reminder that this is **NOT** complete.

 **Review it** , ladies~


	2. falling skywards

**Rated: T for Len being death, naughty things and angsty, twisted perception.**

 **Summary:** "Do not fall in love with me," she breathed, vanilla scent whiffed across his cheeks. Len, Miku, death, reaper and basically a messy character study XD

 **Author's Note:** I'm alive and well, yeah yeah, what a big surprise :v Aso just got out of the thing called school. School on Sunday. Oh the horror.

At always, this is written in Len's perception /again/ because, um, somehow I always find it hard to dwell in a girl's chain of thoughts without making the story either a) too bland and too simple to even read, or b) just. Mary Sue.

Also, bonus to anyone manage to catch the reference to _altschmerz_ :)))) It's actually less of a call back but a big, glaring board with light bulbs and capitalized letters, but fishing something from 15k words isn't that easy, you know XD

Alright, confession time. **Cfs#1** : Hai. I just finished this two minutes ago. **Cfs#2** : I am too into Katekyo Hitman Reborn for my own goods, and this is the result *cough*obviously-inspired-by-the-thing*cough* **Cfs#3** : Also, this will be my last tribute to the Vocaloid fandom here. Goodbye people. I'm off to some sections else XD And no, Kelsey-san, don't start celebrating yet, this goodbye doesn't apply to you. I plan to cling on you for a very loooooooonnnnnnnnnggggg time XD

 **Dedicated:** To my snail waify XD Hey, I even got escargots today at the school camp~ :)))) Also, this is short, you know :v Don't even complain XD

 **Warning: Unbeta'd because I can't even find a beta-reader... available at the moment, per say *cough*and-also-because-I-just-finished-this*cough***

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Vocaloid.**

* * *

He watched her, of course.

He watched her, as well as everyone and every living creature in this city because, well, it was his job – to watch them constantly, lurking in every dark corner, waiting for a slip of caution to immediately devour that soul.

She wasn't special. She wasn't beautiful. Wasn't talented. Wasn't very out-standing. Just a normal human being. Something he hadn't been for a very long time.

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 _I am Death._

He whispered this to himself, within his mind, within his soul; and the heavy stone walls seemed to bounce the reminder back at him like an endless echo. _You are_ , it told him. _You are Death_. _You are Death._ In every dark corner – where the violet luminescence of the wall torches couldn't reach – the echo reverberated. It reaches out to him through tendrils of shadow, curling like smoke against his pale bare skin.

 _Death... Death... Death…_ it chants. Its thrumming intonation creates wide, shallow ripples in the cold pool around him, that dark abyss of water and shadow.

 _Death, Death, Death_.

 _I am Death_. Death, and all that came with it. Everything, what he represented, what he personified, what he was. The Beginning, The End, The In-betweem. Everything and anything and nothing.

He felt like nothing too.

He was nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Death, Death, Death. Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

 _I am Death, I am Death, I am Death_ , his whisper chanted. _I am Death. I'm Death!_

Somehow, it sounded less convincing the more he repeated, and more pleading.

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She caught his eyes at the first glance. Hair too blue and eyes too tranquil, and she was there, tangled in her own world; eyelashes long and heavy, falling down the blue depth and she smiled at the name almost slipped out from his tongue, so familiar like it had been sitting there all the time.

"Ri–?"

 _Rin? Ring?_

It had been a long time.

She waved her hand and whispered so casually.

"Hello. Are you Death?"

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 _She was mysterious, yet, at the same time, simple._

Sometimes she intrigued him with her words. Other times, she was a baby, innocent and ignorant with a short pan of attention. Maybe that was why he stuck around.

Her name, he learned, was _Miku_. Nothing like Ring, and certainly nothing like Rin.

"And what is your name?"

She startled him.

His breath was ragged, shallow and short. He choked on a past too long ago and two women whose were nothing more than a smile and a knife in his memories; ah, it had been too long ago.

His answer came out curtly. He might at well have snapped at her.

"I am Death. I don't have a name, nor do I need one."

 _I am Death, and that is all I will ever be._

She silently sipped her beverage.

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 _She was beautiful._

Frail and transparent, glittening shyly upon glass and soft light, beautiful laughter tinkled in sunlit air, and laughed so freely. Her hands came up, touching his bare skin, pushing his hood down to see his face – to grasp his wrist and pulled, making her way into the crowd. He wasn't afraid of human interaction, but wasn't fond of that either. She stared at him staight in the eyes while people ducked – and that spoke volumns, because when someone was ready to face him like that, something had gone wrong.

(The last time he saw that stare, a life had withered away without his permission.)

She studied his feature with piercing blue eyes, pulling out all his fears, his thoughts, his past, his very secrets, at though she was looking right at his soul. She looked at him like a lover would, and he felt air being knocked out of his lungs.

She looked so understanding.

But she knew _nothing_. She was a human – and that was all she would ever be. And it scared him, terribly. Because no one should be carry that burden, especially not the girl with calm eyes and hearty smile.

She was unnerving.

"Do you have a name?"

He grounded out.

"No."

Her smile faltered a little, but she quickly regained composure.

"Oh, then I will give you a name!"

"You don't have to – "

"Oh, but I do!" – She beamed – "How about Len?"

Silence.

"That will do."

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 _She was... special._

"Don't fall in love with me," she breathed, vanilla scent whiffed across his cheeks

He wanted to retort. Tell her she was being arrogant, and she was not that special, but he couldn't. Because he was death and if anything, death could never be feigned.

He wouldn't want Miku to make the smae mistake Juliet did.

"Why?" – he choked on her words, and she smiled a smile so watery.

"Because love, like death, require eternity."

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 _She was intriguing._

She talked much, even when they were... intimate. A moan, a sigh, ragged, whispered words – usually just "please", a hand lingering on his bare skin, a kiss so chaste as if it was never there, and always, always his name – sounding so foreign and heart-warming at the same time, "Len!".

But never, never "I love you."

Her smile breezed.

"Because love is fleeting and temporarily."

She tasted like blood in his mouth.

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 _She was in love with him._

Her love probbed and stabbed him, and it made him want to break down and cry – because she was everything he had ever wanted, everything he had ever cherished – and he would never have what his heart desired. It was something easily achievable, yet it always escaped him.

This world had a twisted sense of humor.

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 _She was something he had never seen before._

She neutralized fire and water, he mused. Sometimes fierce, sometimes soothing, but she was always distinctively Miku. Like the sky, he mused, she could be calm or hot easily, but usually, she was unreadable. Blue, like her hair. Unattainable.

Like love.

Somewhere between her smile and her eyes, he fell in love with Miku Hatsune.

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 _She was never there._

He only found out about her death when she disappeared.

She died. Like any human should.

A long time ago.

A ghost of something so similar to his past.

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 _And she was forever._

It was then that Len knew he would be cursed to love Miku for the rest of his life.

And it was very, very human.

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Somewhere in the countryside, Len stood in front of the tombstone marking her, alone with a bouquet of pure white roses cradled in his arms.

There was a bitter smile on his lips and tears long forgotten to shed in his eyes.

"I know it's late, and I shouldn't be saying this to you after you have aked me not to, but..."

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" _I love you_."

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Outside, the sky cried.

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 _I will take you to museums, and parks, and monuments, and kiss you in every beautiful place, so that you can never go back to them without tasting me like blood in your mouth._

 _I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible. And when I leave you will finally understand, why storms are named after people._


End file.
